Shooting Lessons
by Jaxson The Great
Summary: Scout has a little free time and asks Sniper to show him how to shoot a rifle. But things are not always as they seem...


**this weird story took me like three hours to write**

**.**

"You ever hold one of these things before?" Sniper asked, an arched eyebrow appearing above the rims of his tinted lenses.

Before him was Scout, arms crossed with the confidence his face lacked. "Of course," he said, voice only a little shaky. He took a steadying breath before saying, "It's been a long time, though. Maybe we should, like, just go over the basics again. As, like, a refresher. Even though I've done this before."

It was early morning, the sun just beginning to show its blinding face over the hilly sand dunes way out in the distance. Sniper had gotten up early to watch the thing rise, or maybe he'd just been trying to pretend he wasn't insomnia-ridden, and had run into Scout, out for a morning run, or jog, or aimless walk where he stopped a lot to kick rocks or poke sticks into ant nests. One thing had led to another, and now here Sniper was, up on top of his van, showing the kid how to shoot.

Sniper nodded, seamlessly hearing through the lies Scout couldn't seem to help spewing. "Of course ye have. Jus' checking. So, first thing is, you gotta make sure you're holdin' it right. Hold it like you would hold a woman."

He gingerly handed over a rifle into Scout's inexperienced hands. Not his own beloved one, but an extra he'd picked up from a drop or something, long ago. It was a decent gun, a .22 long rifle.

Scout gave him a look, like 'am I supposed to know how to hold a woman?' but said nothing, uneasily shifting his hands around on the body, feeling its weight.

Sniper smirked, but hid it as an encouraging smile. "Good. Now, try aiming it. Whatever you want, jus' pick a target. Don't worry about shooting jus' yet, for now we'll jus' focus on aiming."

So Scout aimed, doing his best to mimic the pose he'd seen Sniper strike a thousand times, with the butt of the gun against his shoulder, one hand on the trigger, one on the nose, keeping it steady. "This would be a lot _easier _if you'd let be borrow your shades," he griped as he did, because Scout did nothing quietly.

"Sorry, mate," Sniper shrugged, then placed his hands on his hips, looking the direction Scout was aiming. "See any Spies out there?" he joked.

"Maybe," Scout said under his breath, glancing suspiciously at his teammate. Better safe than sorry, he always said.

He peered through the tiny scope attached to the rifle, looking for something to target. But all he could find were fences, walls, gates and wide expanses of dirt. Not so much as a rock or stray bottle was anywhere to be found.

He was seconds away from complaining, before he felt something suspicious in the air, making his shoulders crawl with discomfort. In an instant he had swung around, and Sniper found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun.

He frowned in irritation. "I was kidding," he said.

"I'm not," Scout said, and clumsily slid his hand around to find the trigger, doing his best to keep the gun centered on the other man's chest. It was hard when his hands seemed to want to do anything but keep still.

Sniper rubbed his face tiredly, trying to remember why he had willingly agreed to spend time with this little brat. After a long moment, during which Scout lost a pound in sweat and Sniper thought fondly of dissecting his teammate in a disturbing and ritualistic manner, he returned to the present and snatched the gun away from the younger class.

"Now, this is _not_ a toy," he reminded the young man, who frowned and squinted suspiciously. "I'm not wasting my time if you're gonna be like that."

"Well..." Scout was torn between demanding proof from his "supposed" teammate and not wanting to get on the man's bad side. In the end he shrugged and sighed, tucking his hands in his back pockets casually, but still keeping both eyes firmly on his instructor. "Fine."

"Good," Sniper said, and raised the rifle to his own eye, peering down the scope. He caught sight of the body of a Scout, poorly hidden, off in one corner of the battlefield. He scrutinized it carefully, then zoomed the scope over to the other end of the barren field, where he spotted a flock of birds perched on a rooftop.

"Try for them birds," he said, gesturing towards them as he handed the gun back to Scout. "Jus' point and shoot."

Scout, with one last glance Sniper's way, returned to the scope to seek out the birds. Once he had found them and managed to get his sights to stay pretty much on one bird, he squeezed the trigger.

It fired sooner then he had expected, and the kick was like a quarterback mistaking his shoulder for the ball. It knocked him back a few steps.

Sniper whistled, leaning back to watch the feathery creatures soar, panicked, overhead. Then he peered over to where they had been roosting only moments before.

"Sorry, kid," he said after a moment. "Looks like you missed."

Scout rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, well, they must've seen me before. Started flyin' before I had a lock on 'em, like."

Sniper reached out to pat Scout consolingly on the back, but only got halfway before the youth had shied away.

"_Now _what's wrong?" Sniper said, irritated. "I already told ya, I'm not a Spy, alright?"

"But you _could _ be," Scout said, holding the rifle like a baseball bat, butt in both hands, nose in the air over his shoulder. "I ain't takin' any chances, a'ite?"

Sniper groaned. This kid. This _stupid _kid.

After a long moment, Sniper shook his head. "Fine, you got me. I'm a Spy. Happy now?"

Scout grinned, triumphant, until Sniper's face melted away into Spy's, and Scout realized he was trapped on the roof of a camper van with an angry enemy Spy. He backed up as much as he could, not liking how far away the ground was looking, and keeping an eye on the Spy, prepared to do anything it took to survive. But the Spy... wasn't doing anything. He was just standing there, hands at his sides, face like 'what are you waiting for?'.

"What?" Scout asked, eyes confused. "Dont' tell me you're a 'nice Spy'; I ain't fallin' for _that _again."

"Oh, no, of course not," the Spy said. "I was just waiting for you."

Now Scout's entire face was confused. "Waiting? Waiting for...?"

"For you to unmask, yourself, dear _espion. _It's only polite."

Scout rolled his eyes, heaving an exasperated sigh. "Sure. Fine." And he dropped his mask as well, revealing the opposite Spy beneath. He didn't drop the facade of Scout, however, and now appeared to be a Scout with a Spy's body.

"Well?" he asked, exasperation evident in his, or, rather, Scout's, voice. "Are you at least gonna kill me, now? Or do we hafta, like, _talk _about it?"

The other Spy shook his head. "You are the worst Spy I have ever encountered."

"Yeah," The first said, as he pushed his knife through the other's throat, severing arteries and spewing blood everywhere. "You keep telling me that."


End file.
